


oh for the love of quidditch!

by sadie18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, Flintwood, Harry Potter - Freeform, Hate to Love, M/M, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 18:04:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15646077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadie18/pseuds/sadie18
Summary: quidditch has always and forever will be the best matchmaker!-flintwood and drarry one shot





	oh for the love of quidditch!

Quidditch. It was always quidditch. 

Oliver Wood was a simple boy. Wake up, eat breakfast, go to classes, do his homework, and then train. Then he went to sleep and repeated it again. He had absolutely no problem with this routine. In fact, many people he knew had this routine. 

What Oliver was not was an angry boy. He was kind, fair, and encouraging, albeit a little bit snippy when it came to training. It was early, nearly the crack of dawn on a Saturday when Oliver shook awake Fred and George and Harry and waited down on the pitch for them to come trudging out tiredly.

It was early when they started flying laps around the pitch. Katie was so tired she was basically sleeping on her broom. But Oliver knew they would thank him when they held the cup at the end of the year. Sleep was for the weak and the Gryffindor Quidditch team was _certainly_ not weak.

It was early when the Slytherin team came walking out from the stands, Marcus Flint at the head of the pack. 

"The fuck are you doing here, Wood?"

Marcus Flint was huge for a chaser, with lean muscles and a year older for being held back. Because he, just like Oliver, cared about just one thing.

"What does it look like, Flint? Playing Quidditch!" Wood flew down to face Flint and his team, Harry and Angelina right behind him.

"It's the crack of dawn, nobody should be playing here." Flint growled.

"I could say the same to you."

The Slytherin team just tiredly groaned, sounding so similar to his own team when he told them the training schedule for the year. 

"Flint, just let them have the pitch, it's too fucking early for a fight." Montague mumbled. In the corner of his eye, Oliver noticed Malfoy nodding, his hair not even combed or gelled. Now _that_ meant something. 

Flint glared at Montague. "You want a shot at the Cup this year? Wood's gonna have his team whipped into shape and we'll be lagging behind." He shot a nasty look at the entire team, "again."

Oliver sympathised. He really did. He knew what it was like when your team wasn't cooperating and life wasn't going your way at all.

But he  _hated_ Flint. Really hated him. With his stupid uniform and his stupid broom and his stupid fixed teeth and his stupid soft hair and he despised him. And Flint hated him back.

"Pitch is our's Flint. We booked it." He said, with a sweet smile on his face. "Sorry!"

He was about to turn away when he heard Pucey call out. "Practice match! Let's have a practice match."

Hm. That was a good idea, actually. Oliver looked up at his team. Fred and George were boredly knocking a bludger between them, and Katie and Alicia were spinning circles around them. Harry was standing next to him, shooting daggers at Malfoy.

"Alright."

\--

Oliver Wood was a great keeper. Really, a fantastic keeper. Maybe one of the best Hogwarts had ever seen. 

But Marcus Flint was also a great Chaser. He was quick, agile and great with his hands. So Oliver had barely managed to grab the quaffle, near flying into the left goal. He tossed it to Angelina.

He wasn't stupid. Oliver knew that Marcus was his rival. They were exact opposites. He a keeper, Flint a chaser. Gryffindor, Slytherin. Kind, nasty. Oliver, while muscular and tall, was lanky. Marcus Flint was huge. Very lean. Great with his hands. A beast on a broom.

A beast that had just scored on him. Fuck.

"Pay attention, Wood. Ravenclaw will have you locked out of the cup final in an instant at this rate." Flint called. And Oliver couldn't say anything because he was _right._ Thinking about his hands, Morgana!

He watched Harry and Malfoy high above the pitch, scouting for the snitch. At least, they were pretending to. They were bickering like an old married couple, those two thirteen year olds. 

Then he watched Fred an George. It was a great hit of the bludger from Bole, really. Went right past Angelina and straight to George. He wasn't ready at all and it skimmed over his bat. Right towards Flint. 

Everyone watched the bludger in slow motion. Marcus turned and Oliver saw the ball knock Marcus right off his broom. It was a high fall. Very high. Almost instantly he flew towards the chaser and grabbed him a split second before hitting the ground. Wasn't the cleverest idea he had had in a while, but it was very Gryffindor. They went sprawling immediately, and everything went black.

\--

"Quidditch, what a nasty sport. I see you two almost as often as I see Mr. Potter, and that is most certainly not something to be proud of!" Madam Pomfrey tutted as Oliver woke. His head was pounding and he was sure the world wasn't supposed to be tinted yellow.

"Oh, Mr Wood, you're awake. Take your Skele-Gro and your Pepper-Up please." She said briskly, as Oliver's vision started to clear up. "Mr Flint told me what had happened, very brave of you, not very well thought out, though you may have saved him from a near fatal accident."

Oliver looked over to the bed next to him. The beds were shoved together for easier access by Pomfrey. Marcus Flint was scowling at her, his cheeks painted pink. "Don't let your head inflate more then it already is, Wood." He mumbled.

Ha. Ha! "Is that any way to talk to your knight in shining armour?" Oliver pretended to swoon. "Oh Oliver, save me! I've been knocked off my broom by a bludger because I wasn't paying attention and am going to get locked out of the house cup by Hufflepuff!" 

Marcus glared, his cheeks going even redder. "Oh shut it Wood. You didn't have to catch me. And I'm  _not a damsel._ "

Oliver frowned. Why _did_ he save Flint? It would have been a huge advantage in the long run. And Oliver wouldn't be in the Hospital Wing. Well, the competition wouldn't have been so fierce. Marcus Flint was probably the only chaser aside from his own Gryffindor girls that could pose as a massive threat during competition. 

"You saved me so it would be  _harder_ for you to win the Cup?"

Oh no. He had said that all aloud.

"No!" He blushed furiously. "I just did it because it was the right thing to do. Honestly, Flint, I know you're a Slytherin, but you wouldn't let someone injure themselves like that!"

"Hm. Maybe." He shrugged. "Anyways. Thanks. For saving me. And you're a pretty good keeper. I guess." He mumbled the last bit that Oliver almost didn't hear it. But he did. 

"Pardon me Flint? What was that?" He put a hand to his ear teasingly and Marcus went even pinker.

"I'm not saying it again Wood!"

Flint's black hair was all mussed up, his tan face pink and scowling. His teeth has been fixed over the summer, and he had a tattoo peeking over the collar of his hospital gown, and Oliver had to say, that he was good looking. Somewhat. For an enemy. 

"I still hate you." Flint muttered. He went even redder, and Oliver frowned. Why was he getting so embarrassed?

"Nah, you don't." Oliver tried. 

"Yes, I do!" He said, his voice half an octave higher. He covered his face with his hands. He really was great with his hands. On the pitch! On the pitch.

"Do not!"

"Do to!"

"Do not, do not, do not, do not." Oliver sing songed like a child. And man, he wouldn't stop. And Marcus. What did he do?

He lunged forward and kissed him. 

Oliver stopped singing immediately. His eyes flew open and Marcus had already pulled back.

"You're right. I don't." He muttered defeatedly. "Now shut up."

Oliver just stared.  _What the fuck! What the fucking fuck! Fuck! What!_

"D'ya fancy me?" He stammered out.

Marcus snarled. "What does it look like, you tosser!"

Oliver's jaw kept dropping. Marcus Flint, who looked good in his Quidditch uniform, who had nice floppy hair and was absolutely beastly in the hallways fancied Oliver Wood, sworn enemies!

Except. They weren't sworn enemies.

"Well, maybe I fancy you too, so stop sulking, you great brute." He mumbled.

Marcus's head shot up, and realising his mistake, settled his exterior back to his grumpy self.

"Fuck off Wood, now you're just taking the piss." He scowled again. Did he ever smile?

"Am not! You're fit, you like quidditch and you're pretty great competition, so don't mope like a teenage girl!" Oliver yelled. Marcus stared dumbly. "And yeah, maybe I needed a little shove from you snogging me to realise it but there's a very fine line between love and hate and now I'm not even surprised we crossed it!"

And then Oliver shoved himself onto Marcus.

Yes, Marcus Flint was very good with his hands. But just on the pitch. Only on the pitch.

\--

"Gentlemen! Shake hands!" Madam Hooch blew a whistle. "I want a good, clean match. This is for the Cup!" 

The crowd was roaring around them, the stands decked in red and gold and green and silver. Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Marcus versus Oliver.

Oliver grabbed his hand.

"Say, Flint, want to give them a little show?" He smiled.

Flint smirked. "You're on."

The stands went ballistic when suddenly Marcus Flint pulled Oliver by the hand into him and then were _snogging on the quidditch pitch!_ The two captains and greatest Quidditch league prospects in Hogwarts and sworn quidditch enemies were _snogging on the quidditch pitch!_

"Yes, alright gentlemen, thank you." Madam Hooch smiled warmly. "Mount!"

"Olly, how come you never told us!" George grumbled.

"Fraternizing with the enemy! Now Harry and Malfoy just need to get it on and all this tension will be resolved!" Fred said dramatically. Harry barked a quick "Oi!" and blushed, and don't think that Oliver missed his hasty glance at the Slytherin blonde. 

"Begin!" Madam Hooch blew her whistle. 

"Game on, Flint," Oliver mumbled under his breath. "Game on."

 

|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|

 

Being a seeker was a tough sport. You had to be quick, agile, and had to think logically. You couldn't catch the snitch to early, oh no, you need more points to get you a definite spot in the Cup final. You couldn't just let the other seeker have it though, because then you'd lose and you definitely  _wouldn't_ have a spot in the Cup final. It was also really hard to be a seeker when  _Harry fucking Potter_ was your competition.

See, Draco Malfoy may have originally bought his place on the team, that may be true. So what? Daddy's gone and he's still here. In fact, he's captain now. 

"Draco, my boy. We've all heard of your ordeals in the war. The service you have done for the light is astounding. You deserve a place in this school and certainly a captaincy on this team." Slughorn had clapped him on the back and with that, left Draco to it.

Yes, Draco Malfoy had been a spy. It was  _not_ easy at all. To spare all the details, Snape had vowed to protect Draco for Narcissa, and the only way he could do that was give him to the Order. But the only way the Order could trust him was to do some dirty work. Which meant some spying. Which was more dangerous than his original position. Really, Severus was being very stupid. 

But the Dark Lord fell to the hand of Harry Potter, his father was whisked away (thank Merlin!), his mum under house arrest and Draco Malfoy was free to walk when the story of his work for the Light had leaked to _the Prophet._

And now they were back for eighth year and Harry Potter had managed to convince McGonagall, the old bat, to let them play Quidditch.

Which is now why he was meeting with Harry Potter and Madam Hooch. In the middle of the pitch. His rival. 

Pretty pathetic to have a thing for your rival though. 

Draco Malfoy was many things. Former spy, war veteran, Slytheirn, pureblood. He was not, most certainly not straight.

Not that been a flaming homosexual was a bad thing. Oh, he saw how Pansy eyed down Granger, especially after her and Weasley had a mutual break off. He was there at the iconic Slytherin-Gryffindor cup match many years back which started off with Flint and Wood passionately snogging. Sickening, really, that almost all Slytherins has a thing for Gryffindors these days. Revolting that he was one of them.

"Say, Malfoy," Harry commented, "care to make a little wager?"

Now, Draco was many things. A coward wasn't one of them.

"What were you thinking?" 

Harry grinned an evil smile that sent a chill up Draco's spine. 

"Well, if I catch the snitch, you can buy me a drink next Hogsmeade weekend." He smirked

Draco was incredulous. A drink at Hogsmeade sounded awfully like he was..

"Asking me on a date, Potter?" Eyebrows raised, nonchalant. Hopefully that's what Draco's face was looking like anyways.

"Maybe." The Gryffindor shrugged. "You can pick the terms of if you win. You can even have two if you'd like. But those are mine." He smiled winningly.

Draco considered this. Oh, he had a good, long think about it. 

"One, give Granger a little shove in Pansy's direction. they've been flirting for days and it's driving me mad. And two..." Draco whispered into Harry's ear. The black haired boy chuckled. 

"Hermione and Parkinson? They're going to take over the world!" He shivered jokingly. "It's a deal."

"Shake hands, gentlemen." Madam Hooch bellowed. Harry gripped his hand firmly, smiling wide. 

"Scared, Potter?" Draco said jokingly.

"Maybe a little nervous, not often I get to buy a pretty boy a drink." Harry said nonchalantly, making Draco blush (though Malfoys do not blush, no sir.). "But just for old times sake? You wish."

"Mount!"

And the whistle blew.

\--

It was too bad. Harry was so close, but Draco was closer, and when he enclosed his hand around the snitch. He won! He had won! 

As Slytherin cheered and the two teams went to shake hands, Draco grabbed Harry.

"Potter," he stammered, still riding the high of winning, "know it wasn't part of my terms, but you can still buy me a drink next Hogsmeade weekend. And maybe I'll buy you one instead."

Harry grinned. "Asking me on a date, Malfoy?"

Draco nodded. It was about time really. It wasn't like they had been dancing around each other for years. Oh no no no.

"See you tomorrow, Potter. You know what to do."

\--

Weasley was the first to see it.

"Harry! What on earth are you wearing!" He yelled. And then the more he took in, he started to laugh. "You absolute bimbo!"

The Great Hall erupted into laughter when Harry Potter walked in wearing Slytherin robes. For girls.

He looked like a slutty witch you would see in Playwizard, with his tie messily done with his buttons low, his skirt riding high. He gave a little twirl and curtsied, leaving the Great Hall in hysterics. 

"Sonorus!" He mumbled into his throat. "Hello, Hogwarts. As you may recall, Gryffindor lost a game yesterday, completely my fault, really. Devastating, it would be, if we didn't already have a place in the final," he said cheekily. "But, someone managed to catch the snitch before me. We had a bet going. Thanks Parkinson for the robes, Hermione, really, I've managed to talk to her before you have, get on with it."

Draco choked on his laughter while Pansy glared at him. He was soon forgotten when she caught Hermione's eye and they shared a small smile, catcalls loud around them.

"So yes, I lost to Draco Malfoy, so Malfoy, this is for you! Bring enough galleons for some butterbeer, don't forget you're buying me a drink next Hogsmeade weekend!"

And Harry Potter strode off, leaving the crowd laughing and catcalling, and Draco with a big, stupid smile on his face.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr https://dracospvtter.tumblr.com/


End file.
